Maggie Norris and Luke Vaudest come with attitudes of stone-cold, rude, sarcastic snakes. Every single time the pair have clashed, it has never ended up being a good thing. The two are more than fine with never crossing paths, again.
Until Maggie d...
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"I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home, only to no home I'd ever known." — Sleepless in Seattle ————————————————————
Chapter 22 <—————————————>
Luke
Maggie looked fucking terrible.
That's what I'd claim if I were a liar.
I wasn't, though. I told the truth.
And, the truth was...
Maggie looked like a fucking angel. Like a luxury that money couldn't buy, nor touch. So magnificently breathtaking that the moment I saw her, I questioned why my eyesight had even been around this long without her in them.
It made me wonder if they could even fully take her beauty in by a glance alone. The answer was obvious: they couldn't; it wasn't possible.
I watched her from my spot at the table we had been at, earlier. I had panicked, and let her fall into anothers' arms. I wasn't even sure why I said what I said about her scars other than the fact that it was the truth. She hadn't even asked, but one doubtful expression from her, and I found myself spilling like a faucet.
Downing my third glass of champagne, I waved down one of the servers over for the umpteenth time, but since I tipped him a hundred every time, he didn't complain.
He offered a glass, but I grabbed the entire platter, and placed it down in front of me. No one else deserved this shit more than I did, right now.
I had Maggie in my arms. I had her, and for some fucked reason, I didn't want to let go. As disgusted as I wanted to feel justlooking at her, it never happened.
Then, fuck me.
She looked up at me with those big green eyes of hers, and I thought my knees would give out from under me. As nervous as she had been of messing up, I was the one on the verge of a heart attack the longer I held her.
The moment she touched my scar, though, I was shocked at my own self.
No matter how many girls I fucked, I'd never, not once, let them, or anyone else touch my scars. Neither the one on my neck or my arm, but my neck was far more noticeable. If they did, I'd leave without a second thought to it.
But, Norris...fucking shit.
It was something I sometimes forgot even existed, until they caught the eyes of strangers, or things like that. All of my life, I had thought of the scars as monstrous. I never liked them, nor did I see any good in them.
Yet, when she touched them, I thought them good. When she looked at them, I thought them beautiful, not ugly. It was strange, and I felt like...
I shook my head to clear the thoughts. It was lust. It was simply lust. There were lots of that tonight.
